The Matchmaker
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Teenager Emma Speare prides herself on her matchmaking skills. So when she's stuck at NCIS all day with nothing to do, she turns her expert eye on Madame Director and a certain Silver-Haired Fox...NOT Casefic/Quirky, Maybe Fluff. JIBBS!
1. Prologue: Argue Someone to Death

_This Prologue is necessary to kick off the story; there is Jibbs-y goodness and Team Antics aplenty to come._

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Petty Officer Clara Knightley sighed and rubbed her forehead as she turned to the bar in her kitchen and poured herself another small glass of gin, growing increasingly exhausted with the incessant arguing currently taking place across her dining room table.

"Oh, I know exactly what's been going on, _Elton_—"

"You've _completely_ lost it if you think—"

"Oh? I've lost it, I'm crazy? Suppose I ask Clara, _she_ won't lie to me; she's _never_ been as cruel as _you_ are to me,"

Clara resisted the urge to groan as her sister and her sister's husband turned to face her defiantly, expectant eyes demanding her input.

"Well, _Clara_?" Lydia Speare demanded, crossing her arms and turning her nose up at her husband Elton.

Petty Officer Clara Knightley took a drink without saying anything, pulling at the neck of her uniform. She was uncomfortably hot.

Clara did not know why Lydia was suddenly under the impression her sister was sleeping with her husband; Clara did know that it was absolutely _false_.

"Lydia, I don't have time for this, I've got to report in twenty minutes," Clara said exasperatedly, shaking her head.

Honestly, she didn't understand _why_ Lydia and Elton Speare were even married. To everyone who knew them, they appeared to violently hate each other. And they perpetuated that assumption by loudly and petulantly fighting with and picking at each other over every _single_ thing.

"Clara, I'm your sister, and I'm in _need_. The navy can _wait_," Lydia whined, throwing a vicious glare at her husband.

Clara loosened the neck of her collar some more, trying to steady her eyesight. She took another drink. They were actually making her _ill_ with their petty bickering.

"I find the Navy more frightening than your attempt at a guilt trip—"

"Oh, I see. You're going to avoid me? Don't you dare leave this house! _Are_ you sleeping with my husband or not—"

Elton slammed his fist down on the table and stood up.

"This is ridiculous! For the last time, I'm not sleeping with your sister!" he roared, throwing up his hands.

"Elton! KEEP QUIET, no one asked YOU—"

"You shut-up, Lydia, you're lost it if you think—"

"You always yell at me, you're so abusive—"

Clara put her head in her hands and moaned, a wave of nausea sweeping over her. She tried to take a deep breath and felt her throat blocked, as well as her naval passage. Panic rose in her, and she tried again. Her hand fell to her throat; she couldn't breathe.

She gasped and looked up, waving her glass, trying to distract the childishly fighting couple in front of her. Elton and Lydia were too busy screeching (and in Lydia's case hurling napkin clasps) to pay attention to the asphyxiating woman before them.

Clara's eyes slowly darkened and she fell into a blurry state of unconsciousness. The last thing she remembered was letting go of her glass before her head smacked against the back of the counter.

Lydia and Elton Speare stopped shrieking at the sound of shattering glass and looked down at the owner of the house they were fighting in. Both remained silent, impersonating goldfish for a full five minutes before:

"YOU _KILLED_ MY SISTER!"

* * *

_What's the verdict?_

_Alexa_


	2. Tony Attempted to Eat My Ear

_Team Antics! Real story starts here. A note: the sort of idea is taken from a mix of Jane Austen's 'Emma' and Shakespeare's 'Midsummer Night', i.e the names and some personalities._

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Special Agent Timothy McGee was greeted by a wad of paper to the forehead as he walked into the Bullpen on Monday morning…which meant everything was in order; it was a typical day.

"PROBIE!"

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo barked gleefully, aiming a rubber band rocket at the computer geek and missing.

"You're just in time to hear about my Sunday-night-creepy-movie-marathon—you might want to grab a teddy bear or something; I know these things can get McScary for you,"

McGee narrowed his eyes at his fellow agent and plopped down at his desk, dropping his bag next to his chair and booting up his PC.

"Morning, McGee," Officer Ziva David greeted coolly, nodding at him civilly. He returned her greeting, wondering if it were possible to shut Tony up somehow.

"Anyway, Zeee-vah, as I was saying before McInterruptus barged in, he's this guy named Hannibal Lector, and he eats people—"

"Why does he eat people?" Ziva interrupted, looking up from her computer and furrowing her eyebrows.

"Because he's a cannibal, and—"

"I thought you said his name was Cannibal," Ziva interrupted again.

Tony DiNozzo glared at his partner.

"It's _Hannibal_, it rhymes with 'cannibal', which is someone who—"

"That is silly." Ziva said, pushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear and turning back to the report from yesterday's case she was wrapping up.

"_Silly_?!" Tony squeaked, outraged. He got out of his chair and prowled around the bullpen, his eyes fixed hawkishly on the Mossad officer.

"Probie," Tony shouted suddenly, whirling to look at McGee, "Inform Miss _Daahhh_-veed of how very _genius _and not 'silly' _Silence of the Lambs_ is."

Tony glared at McGee expectantly. McGee sighed and directed his attention to Ziva, who had glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"_Silence of the Lambs_," he said slowly, glancing at Tony "is a movie for unintelligent people who are easily amused by creepy violence."

McGee flashed Tony a triumphant smirk; Tony glared at him and whipped back to Ziva, advancing on her, speaking to McGee threateningly:

"Probie, if you ever take Ninja Chick's side again I will eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti!"

"You will do what to him?!" Ziva gasped, her head shooting up. Tony swooped down next to her and stuck his tongue between his teeth, making slithering, slurping noises in her ear.

In a flash, Ziva had his forehead pinned against her desk, her hand splayed over the back of his head, and was standing over him dangerously.

"If you ever do that again, I will show you exactly how Mossad trained me to withstand rigorous torture," she hissed, flicking his ear hard.

Tony squealed in a very unmanly way and struggled.

"You squeal like _that_ again, DiNozzo, and you're fired," barked a harsh voice.

Ziva immediately let go of her partner and Tony straightened up, eyes wide, rubbing his head.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs marched around the corner of the bullpen, coffee in hand looking (if possible) more scary than usual.

"Ziva hit me, boss."

"Tony attempted to eat my ear."

Gibbs shot them both a glare and jerked open his drawer with a loud bang, drawing wary looks from his team. He pulled his gun out and snapped the mag into it, glancing up when he sensed to movement.

"Grab your gear; got a dead Petty Officer at Quantico, two eyewitnesses," he snapped.

Tony, Ziva, and McGee scrambled to pack up, each eager to keep Gibbs happy. Or rather, make him happier than he seemed to be right now.

"Uhhhh…boss…?"

"I don't wanna hear it, DiNozzo,"

"Did you say two eyewitnesses?" Tony asked, wincing as he went on even after Gibbs had practically promised death if he spoke again.

Gibbs straightened up and glared, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"You deaf, DiNozzo?"

Tony swallowed, and raised a finger, pointing, his bag halfway hoisted on his shoulder.

"Is it _them_?" he asked, gesturing to the couple that had just stepped off the elevator.

Gibbs jammed his SIG into the holster at his belt and straightened up, lifting his chin to follow DiNozzo's line of sight.

The blonde woman and tall auburn-haired man were clearly fighting with each other, that he could tell from the tense hold of their shoulders and the sour looks on their faces. He narrowed his eyes at the visitor's tags pinned to them and sized them up. It wasn't until their conversation reached his ears that he gave DiNozzo a little credit.

"Why would I kill Clara?"

"You—I know _you_ did it, you're just—"

"You don't even have a _reason_, you psycho!"

"You were _sleeping_ with her you…you!"

Tony looked at Ziva and raised his eyebrows, looking amused. McGee took a step backward from Gibbs as the boss directed his glare at the two people now disrupting the morning peace of the NCIS office. They were now drawing looks from other agents.

The elevator door dinged again, and out stepped a teenage girl, who flipped a cell phone shut and looked around. When she spotted the heatedly arguing couple, she rolled her eyes, looking pained, and started after them.

"Mom, Daddy—" her voice hissed quietly.

"What is she doing here! She doesn't need to be exposed to this, to your murdering dark side you—"

"Lydia, I've _had_ it, I'm calling a lawyer—"

Oh, _now_ is not the time, Elton, not right after you've _killed_ my sister—"

"_MOM_!"

Now, Tony was seriously amused. Bordering on hysterical. Ziva was giving the whole group a quizzical look. McGee was still backing away from Gibbs, who actually looked like he might pull his SIG back out and open fire on them all.

Whatever the Director had wanted to speak to him about…must not have been to his liking.

"HEY!" bellowed Gibbs, drawing not only his team's immediate attention, but also managing to shut up the bickering couple and bring a look of relief to their teenage daughter's face.

"Who the hell are you two?" he questioned, dispensing with any sort of social courtesy. The woman looked slightly offended; her husband just harassed and annoyed.

"Elton and Lydia Spe—"

"Do _not_ associate me with you, Elton, I'm—"

The woman broke off as Gibbs stepped closer to them, turning a murderous look on her. She stepped back, muttered something, and crossed her arms, looking even more offended. Gibbs turned to the man.

"Elton and Lydia Speare," Elton said through tight lips.

"What do you want?" Gibbs growled.

"Do you think Jenny burned his boat or something?" Tony whispered to Ziva, giving the back of Gibbs's head a terrified look. Ziva shook her head wordlessly.

"We were told to report here by base security for—"

"This bastard murdered my sister _right in front of me_!" interrupted Lydia Speare, pointing accusingly at her husband. Elton whipped toward her.

"I did not murder Clara!"

"You poisoned her! Killed so she wouldn't _tell_—"

"If I was going to kill _anyone_ it would be you, Lydia,"

"_Enough_."

The man turned away from his wife, and the woman clamped her mouth shut, glaring alternately at him and Gibbs. Her disgruntled look was nothing compared to the Boss's.

"Officer David," Gibbs snapped, not taking his eyes off of the couple in front of him.

Ziva leapt to attention at his side.

"Yes, Gibbs?"

"Escort Mr. and Mrs. Speare to _interrogation_," he ordered slowly, turning away from them. He took a long drink from his coffee and walked away, throwing a scowl up at the catwalk, though there was no one there to receive it.

"Boss," tony called, jogging forward, 'Boss, they're not suspects, why inter—"

"They pissed me off," Gibbs growled, cutting off Tony's questions.

"Yes, boss." Tony replied immediately, straightening up in front of Gibbs's desk.

"Umm…Special Agent…Gibbs?" Tony, Gibbs, and McGee turned their heads toward the slightly hesitant voice near the bullpen entrance.

The teenage girl they'd all previously ignored stood there, holding his business card between her thumb and forefinger, looking embarrassed and apologetic.

"It might be a good idea to separate them," she said, jerking her head to where Ziva was disappearing with her parents, "they might kill each other."

"Good," snarled Gibbs. Tony and McGee gave him shocked looks, not believing he'd just expressed a desire to see the girl's parents dead. She surprised them with her reaction.

"Yeah," she said grimly, dropping a schoolbag to the floor next to her, "I know how you feel."

She dragged the bag with her and pulled Tony's chair back from his desk, pushing all of her hair behind her so it fell down the back of the chair.

Tony opened his mouth to protest, but didn't know what to say. Gibbs straightened up, beginning to wonder if one of his team had smashed five mirrors in the past week, and McGee just gave the entire scene a confused stare.

The girl crossed her arms and swiveled a little in the chair.

"We're going to be here a while," she informed them, shrugging, glancing off after her no longer visible parents. When she looked back at the team, they were looking at each other.

Gibbs's hand was dangerously close to his weapon. And it was making Tony nervous.

"I'm Emma Speare," the girl offered, waggling a few fingers from where they were crossed in front of her in a wave. "You're going to need me,"

* * *

_Review, if you will :]_

_Alexa_


	3. Would You Be Sad If Gibbs Killed Them?

_Thank you for all the nice reviews:] _

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Jennifer Shepard, first female director of an armed federal agency (and the youngest) had not started off the morning pleasantly.

Dealing with the Press and the FBI were equally hard jobs, but she could do it. Dealing with the Press and the FBI after Gibbs had pissed them both off in one go was less than favorable and difficult, but she could do it. Dealing with _Gibbs_ when he was in a particularly antagonistic mood _and_ believed he'd done nothing wrong induced suicidal tendencies and was like having hot coals shoved down her throat…but she could (sort of) do it.

Even if nothing never ended up 'dealt with'. Meaning, the 'dealing with him' usually resulted in shouting matches, underhanded emotional jabs, and—on her part, she knew—memories of how they _used_ to make up.

Jenny immaturely ripped the top off of the coffee she'd bought this morning and threw the two parts of the cup into the trash can next to her desk, glaring at it, taking out her anger at a certain coffee-addicted chauvinistic agent on the innocent Starbucks mocha.

She didn't even have time to sulk and stew, and think up new insults. No, five minutes after she'd all but drop kicked Agent Gibbs out of her office, SecNav had requested that she put a rush on a case they had coming in, concerning a certain Petty Officer Clara Knightley.

And _who_ did she find had been given that case?

One Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

Jenny scowled at nothing as she stood up, straightening her blouse and striding across her office.

Cynthia looked up warily as the Director wrenched open the door to her office and appeared, looking more harassed than she usually did after an altercation with Gibbs.

"Preliminary report on the Knightley case," Cynthia said promptly, handing Jenny a manila folder. Jenny took it and smiled slyly, nodding.

"It's Agent Gibbs in trouble, Cynthia, not you." She said, softening her features a little. Cynthia nodded and smiled.

Jenny turned a glare of dread on the door in front of her that led to the catwalk and started towards in, when Cynthia called her back. She turned a little and raised an eyebrow, indicating her assistant should speak.

"Did you hear about Agent Gibbs's eyewitnesses?" the other woman asked, in a somewhat amused tone.

Curiosity piqued, Jenny backtracked a little.

"What should I have heard?" she asked. Cynthia leaned forward, tapping her pen against the edge of her wooden desk. Her dark eyes danced.

"The couple that was there when the woman died appear to be…less than cooperative," Cynthia started slowly, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh? How so?" Jenny prompted, feeling slightly like she was gossiping about a rival girl in high school.

Except this rival 'girl' was an ex-lover who had the infuriating ability to drive her mad with desire and frustration.

"They apparently hate each other. And my sources say they're doing nothing but insulting each other and telling completely warped stories about what happened."

Jenny's eyes lit up with vindictive pleasure. If there were people downstairs irritating Gibbs, she was going to go and hug them. Tightly.

The Director smiled approvingly at Cynthia and turned to go, sticking her head back into the assistant's office as she left.

"Your 'source', Cynthia?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow. Cynthia looked slightly ashamed.

"Agent…DiNozzo."

Jenny smirked and shut the door, walking slowly out onto the catwalk. She surveyed her busy agency, coming down the stairs at a slow pace. As her eyes fell to the bullpen where Team Gibbs worked, she furrowed her eyebrows.

Tony harassing McGee: normal. Ziva lounging provocatively: normal. Teenage girl with calculating look sitting in Tony's chair: abnormal.

Jenny did not announce her presence as she entered the bullpen. Ziva noticed her, but did not alert the two male agents or the girl. She simply nodded calmly, giving Jen time to eavesdrop.

"Why do we need you again?" DiNozzo asked loudly.

"Don't be rude, Tony!" McGee admonished.

"Shut-up, McPolite."

The teenage girl, an attractive brunette, shrugged a little.

"If they get too out of hand, I can play them. Or tell you how to. They're never going to cooperate, they're too caught up in War of the Spouses." She answered boredly.

"Yeah, well, the Boss Man thinks you've issued some sort of challenge to him, like you can break his suspects and he can't or—"

"I would not let Gibbs hear you say that, Tony," Ziva interrupted in her slightly accented drawl.

Tony all but stuck his tongue out at her.

"He's going to be here forever then," the girl said, again shrugging.

"Your parents always fight like that?" McGee asked, his eyes wide. She nodded absentmindedly.

"It's all white noise after a while. I absolutely _cannot_ take them out, though, which gets old,"

Jenny raised her eyebrows at the dry humor the girl possessed and couldn't help but smile, and a genuine one this time.

"Would you be sad if Gibbs killed them?" Tony asked bluntly, "Because I think he might. He usually doesn't wear his gun into interroga—"

"_Tony_!" Hissed Ziva and McGee. He lifted his shoulders like he was innocent, but the girl rolled her eyes.

"Do you need another week of sensitivity training, Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny asked mildly, finally announcing her presence. Tony whipped around and knocked three files off of Ziva's desk, earning a deadly stare from the Mossad officer.

"Madam—er, Jenny. Director Shepard," he stumbled over his words, "I was kidding." He said finally, looking defeated. Jenny smirked and shook her head, opening the file before her and scanning it.

"Where's Gibbs?" Jenny asked, looking up from the quick information listed in the file and watching them expectantly.

"Interrogation."

"Quantico."

"Abby's Lab."

Three different answers hit her at once and she groaned inwardly.

_Mature, Jethro. You're hiding and the teams' covering._

All three agents looked guiltily at each other. Jenny turned toward Ziva first, ready to break her one-time partner, when the girl in Tony's chair spoke up.

"Autopsy," she said, ignoring the looks from the team. "The man with silver hair?" when Jenny nodded, the girl got up and sat on the edge of Tony's desk, nodding.

"Sell-out!" Tony accused, pointing menacingly.

"Who is this?" Jenny asked, still looking at her but addressing Ziva.

"Emma Speare," Ziva answered promptly.

"The victim's niece," Emma Speare added, drawing attention back to herself. She looked a little sad as she said it. "Here to supervise the bickering five-year-olds who call themselves my parents."

Jenny cracked a half-grin.

"Has Gibbs lost it yet?" she asked. She caught Siva's sly smirk out of the corner of her eye.

"He threatened to duck-tape Mom's mouth shut, if that's what you mean," Emma answered, seeming unfazed by the idea of someone tying up her mother, "I heard him shout it as he left that hallway." She pointed in the direction of interrogation.

Emma stopped a minute and looked thoughtful.

"Daddy already tried that, though, and she just chewed through it…"

Tony's jaw dropped, and Emma let out a giggle as she watched his face.

"I was kidding," she teased. And then: "Sorta," she added in a mumble.

"Uhhhh…Gibbs will be back in a minute, Director, I'll tell him you—"

"No, no McGee," Jenny interrupted mildly, shaking her head. She walked around Gibbs' desk and sat in his chair, crossing one long leg over the other.

"I'll wait."

Tony and McGee stared at her with a mixture of dread and admiration.

-----

"Whaddaya got, Duck?"

Autopsy doors whooshed open and Doctor Donald Mallard looked up, greeting his old friend with a bright smile.

"Ah, Jethro, murderer's are up bright and early, I see," he said, gesturing to the pretty woman laid out in front of him, her chest cavity opened wide.

Gibbs grunted at him and came to stand beside the table, with his hands in his pockets. He glanced down at Petty Officer Clara Knightley's body, thinking with disgust of her sister and brother-in-law, locked in separate interrogation rooms upstairs.

He needed a cause of death, preferable now.

According to Lydia Speare, Clara Knightley had dropped to the floor, frothing at the mouth, shouted that Elton had murdered her, and died.

According to Elton Speare, Clara Knightley had dropped to the floor, smashing a good glass of gin on the way down and pointing a shaking finger at Lydia, mouthing 'something creepy'.

And according to Gibbs, both were idiots who needed a good slap to the back of the skull. It was _really_ depressing that violence in interrogation like that jeopardized cases in court.

"Are the witnesses really that bad?" Ducky asked conversationally, raising thing eyebrows as he slipped gloves on and took the place opposite Gibbs. Gibbs answered with a glare that left nothing to the imagination. "Oh, my my," Ducky sighed, clicking his tongue.

"Duck," Gibbs growled, "Cause of death."

"Oh, yes, of course," Ducky started. "You see how her skin has a ruddy tinge to it all, indicating lactic acidosis in the blood cells. The poor girl was suffocating from the inside. She suffered cardiac arrest, impossible at her age, with her health records. I took a guess at some sort of Cyanide poisoning, and when I sent the blood samples to Abigail she confirmed my suspicions: this girl suffered a monstrous dose of potassium cyanide. It seems the gin she was drinking was more than seventy-five percent toxic,"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the body on the table before him, taking in the young age of the victim. He raised his eyes to the ceiling a little.

"That it?" he asked Ducky impatiently.

"No, actually," Ducky said, continuing with his long-winded way of speaking, "As I looked closer at the intestines and stomach, I found erosion and wear that should definitely not have been present in one so young. When I sent a tissue sample to Abby, it tested positive for arsenic, so I had her check the gin for that—and arsenic, too was present! Now, it takes weeks, even months to poison someone with arsenic—it's How Napoleon was murdered, you know—so I'd wager someone had been poisoning the Petty Officer already—"

"Ducky," Gibbs interrupted sharply, "You trying to tell me we have two murderers?"

"Well…yes, I'd say so."

Gibbs glared at him as if it were the ME's fault.

"Is _that_ it?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose, Jethro—is everything alright?" Gibbs just glared at him blankly, and Ducky sighed, knowing that look very well.

The Director and the Senior Agent were clearly not getting along today.

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said shortly, spinning on his heel and marching out of Autopsy, leaving Ducky alone with the Petty Officer. He bent down to her ear, snapping his gloves off in the process.

"She's the only one who's ever riled him up quite this way, my dear,"

-------

Abigail Scuito bobbed her head in tune with her much too loud music, examining the results of the evidence she'd just gotten back. When she heard the volume fall a little, She jumped away from her computer, spinning around, pigtails flying, and threw her arms around Gibbs, knocking him backwards a few steps.

"Gibbs! Good morning! Did you have a good weekend? How's the boat? Word on the street—well, not the street, more like word in the hallway off the elevator—is that you and—"

"Abs," he interrupted, a little sharper than usual. He waved a Caf-pow! in front of her, and held it just out of reach. She pouted a little and swung back to the computer, reaching for her mouse.

"Someone's grumpy this morning," she accused, giving him a sly look over her shoulder.

"Uncooperative suspects tend to do that to me," he growled, setting the Caf-pow! down next to her and looking over her shoulder.

"Suspects? Oh. That. I heard. But I thought you and the Director where having a lover's spat of some sort—"

"Abby. Evidence. Now."

"There was latex residue on the gin bottle, so someone tried to wear gloves—but they weren't good enough to beat me! One of the gloves was ripped, so I have a finger print—eleven points. It matches Lydia Speare. I also found a cute little hair just dangling inside the bottle off the next—DNA matches Elton Speare. Around the bottom of the gin, I found sweat—and when separated, the DNA in the two different sweats matches Lydia and Elton Speare,"

Abby finished roundly, having pointed out everything to him on the bottle. He looked up slowly and stared at her.

"You've got to be kidding me," He hissed, looking back down at the bottle.

"I don't joke about evidence! Well, only when it's funny evidence. Or creepy—hey, maybe I do joke about evidence too much—"

"Abs," Gibbs interrupted shortly, gesturing to the bottle, "Petty Officer Knightley was poisoned, twice. By different people. With different poisons," He clarified.

Abby nodded energetically.

"And it seems one of your Speares tried to frame the other," she said, giving him a thumbs up.

"Good work, Abby," Gibbs commended reluctantly, kissing her swiftly on the cheek and disappearing out of her lab without a second glance.

"Do they know BRITNEY SPEARES?" Abby yelled after him.

She received no answer.

There was a poisoned Petty Officer in Autopsy. A hair and some sweat in Abby's lab. Two suspects just asking to be keelhauled in interrogation—who appeared to have been involved in a senseless murder. A teenage girl who seemed to think he couldn't solve the case without _her_ at DiNozzo's desk. No coffee in his hand. And…

"What is she doing here?" he growled, stopping as his eyes fell on the enticing red hair and challenging green eyes.

"Have you forgotten, Agent Gibbs, that I run this agency you seem to think is your kingdom?"

…the ass-kissing and very seductive Director sitting in his chair.

* * *

_The plot thickens!_

_Alexa_


	4. You Could Cut The Sexual Tension

_"...but I must, indeed, for other people. It is the greatest amusement in the world!" -Emma, Jane Austen: On matchmaking._

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"Playing agent, Jen?" Gibbs asked sarcastically.

Then even he realized the colossal mistake he'd just made by calling her that nickname in front of the team. Her sparkling eyes narrowed and she sat up in her chair, sweeping a file off his desk.

"Excuse me, Agent Gibbs?" she asked coldly.

Even thought he knew he should correct himself, Leroy Jethro Gibbs found it more satisfying (and amusing) to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about. He shoved past DiNozzo, who was standing and gaping and completely in the way, and went nose-to-nose with Jenny, towering over her.

She stood up on her impossibly high heels, matching his height and refusing to back down.

"You address me as Director, Special Agent Gibbs," she said stiffly, moving past him. He caught her wrist and pulled her back.

Ziva snickered.

"You got a reason for being here, _Direc_-_tor_?" he asked, really laying it on.

Jenny slapped the Preliminary file down on his desk and snapped her nail against it, glaring at him harshly.

"SecNav requested a priority on the Knightley case. It seems the Petty Officer's outstanding performance at Annapolis attracted his interest in her career, and he'd like to know what the hell's going on."

"Well, yeah, so would I." Gibbs replied, dropping into his chair and glancing at the folder before tossing it away.

"Do you know _anything_?" Jenny persisted, counting to five in her head.

_One, don't kill him, two, don't kill him, three, his eyes still go navy when he's angry, four, his lips—STOP._

"Potassium Cyanide," Gibbs grunted, standing up again. He glared at Jen when he realized she had moved to block his exit. Under her breath, she dipped her head and muttered:

"I do not appreciate this little performance, Jethro, and the last thing I need is you making things difficult with SecNav as well,"

Equally as quietly, he replied:

"You do your job, and let me do mine. Aren't you supposed to be good at ass-ki—uh, placating politicians?"

The glare he received was satisfying. Unfortunately, it was also arousing, whether she meant it to be or not.

Damn woman.

"Watch it, Jethro," she hissed, before moving out of his way. He breezed past her, stopping in the middle of the bullpen.

"McGee, with me," he turned on Ziva, "check the backgrounds of the Petty Officer and the idiots in interrogation, and any past arguments between them, DiNOZZO," he barked, turning on him last. He pointed at Emma, "Babysit."

"Aww, Boss, come on—"

_Whack_.

"Right, Boss, okay."

"You sure you don't need Emma, Gibbs?" Jenny asked mildly. "She seems to know something you don't about how to crack your suspects,"

Gibbs growled and left the bullpen, McGee scrambling after them. Jenny didn't say a word to any of them as she turned on her pointed stiletto and left, obviously still angered.

Ziva and Tony gave each other looks. Apparently, The Boss and the Boss's Boss had reached some sort of pivotal breaking point.

A low whistle interrupted their stunned looks, and they both turned to Emma.

"You could cut that sexual tension with a knife," she sighed, swiveling in the chair.

The look of glee that spread over Tony's face was priceless. He bounded forward to join Emma's side of the room.

"Do they have a thing?" Emma asked, looking from Tony to Ziva.

"They are colleagues," Ziva replied neutrally, giving Tony a look. Tony ignored her.

"That doesn't mean anything Zee-vah," he rolled his eyes and turned back to Emma, "Why do you ask, observant little girl?" he asked.

"It's obvious," answered Emma, as if it really were just two-plus-two. "Look at how my parents argue, and how those two argue. They weren't being hateful; they know exactly what to say to challenge each other. _They_ were playing a game. Besides," Emma finished, waving her hand, "your Director, Jenny? Her eyes long for him."

Tony made a whooping noise and slung his fist in the air, bringing it down to point at Ziva.

"Told you told you told you!" he yelled immaturely.

"The Director and Gibbs do not have a 'thing'," Ziva repeated, shaking her head. "They are professionals."

"Did they use to, then?" Emma asked.

"They used to be undercover partners in Paris," Tony answered quickly. Emma raised her eyebrows at him and he nodded excitedly.

"They've definitely had sex before," Emma said.

Ziva made a noise of disbelief and rolled her eyes, but she did get up and take a seat on her desk, leaving her assignment from Gibbs to join in fully.

"Why do you say that, Emma?" Ziva asked.

"Clearly, their body language. They stand too close, are too comfortable being nose-to-nose, he grabbed her wrist without fear of her even though she's his superior. Sex. They _know_ each other,"

Ziva cocked her head at the young girl in amusement and thought. The Mossad officer knew a bit of Jenny's history with Gibbs, but not to an intimate extend. She knew Jenny had had an affair, and since she'd arrived at NCIS, she'd pretty much figured out it was Gibbs. But she'd always loyally protected Jenny's desire to keep it a secret, and shot down Tony's attempts to ferret out a steamy affair between the two.

"Do you believe me now, Crazy Ninja Chick?" Tony asked cockily, tilting his head at her and crossing his arms triumphantly.

"No, Tony, I do not. I do not mean to offend, but you are…fifteen, yes? What do you know about sex and what not?" Ziva asked the girl.

"Look," Emma said, sitting up in the chair and leaning forward, her hands laced together on Tony's desk, "I know I'm young, but matchmaking is my game. I just know compatibility when I see it; look at what I've grown up around. I'm responsible for two happy marriages and three high school romances, believe me; I know."

Tony raised his eyebrows, wiggled them suggestively, and looked at Ziva. But, he did hesitate and looked back at the girl.

"A bit arrogant, aren't you?" he asked.

Emma shrugged.

"I'm good at what I do," she said. "Let me ask you this: Would you rather them be like _that_ all the time, or would you rather someone knock their heads together and show them they need to find a way to…get rid of that…_tension_?"

Now it was Emma's turn to wiggle her eyebrows suggestively.

Ziva's brow furrowed; Tony's eyes gleamed mischievously.

"You mean…match-make Gibbs and the Director?" Ziva asked slowly, looking around to make sure the Boss hadn't appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm in," Tony said automatically.

"We cannot do this," Ziva said quickly, lowering her voice, "they will kill us! The Director and Gibbs are very private people, and Emma could be wrong—"

"I'm not wrong. Those two should be going at it." Emma interrupted matter-of-factly.

Ziva looked hesitant, shaking her head, while Tony knelt down and scooted up, putting his head close to Emma's.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

After a moment of watching them whisper, Ziva came in closer and leaned forward, her senses alert, keeping watch.

"I need to talk to the Director…" Emma started, as they laid the foundation for their work.

* * *

_Hmmm!_

_Alexa_


	5. Put Them In The Same Room

_"Ah, my dear! I wish you would not make matches and foretell tings, for whatever you say always comes to pass!" -Emma, Jane Austen: On Matchmaking_

**

* * *

**

Director Jennifer Shepard was staring at her trashcan, regretting the loss of the coffee she'd so rudely tossed out this morning. She _deserved_ that coffee, after what Gibbs had just pulled in the squad room. And yet here she was, with no caffeine, when he was downstairs in the action, a full cup at his side.

Damn man.

She lifted her head slightly when the intercom phone buzzed and Cynthia's voice floated through it.

"Lunch for you, Director. From Officer David."

Jenny brightened up considerably and replied affirmatively. Her office door flew open and she immediately feared it was Gibbs barging in, having somehow blackmailed Cynthia into not giving him away. She relaxed slightly when she saw Emma Speare, but the relief was followed by (annoyingly enough) disappointment that Gibbs hadn't brought her lunch, and confusion.

The young girl held up a plastic container from a little food place down the street, a very nice looking Caesar salad. Jenny got up from her desk and moved over to the conference table, accepting the food and placing a hand on her hip.

"I know you were expecting Ziva," Emma started right away, "but she's loaded with work, so I volunteered."

"Nice of you," Jenny commented, taking a seat. She gestured that Emma should do the same, but the girl just walked around to the opposite side and leaned on it, looking around Jenny's neat and decorative office approvingly.

"Are you still waiting for Gibbs to ask for your help?" Jenny asked, pulling the fork out of its plastic wrapper and piercing the lettuce.

Emma laughed, and shrugged.

"If he wants a straight story, he'll ask," she said confidently.

"You don't know Jethro," Jenny muttered, accidentally using his first name. She shrugged it off, thinking Emma wouldn't really think anything of it.

"But _you_ do," Emma said thoughtfully, and Jenny realized the teenager was looking at her intently. "I mean, you know how he works and all that." She clarified, when she caught Jenny's quizzical look.

"I've worked with Agent Gibbs for a while," she said neutrally, thankful to be eating. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

Emma didn't say another word, and before she could, Jenny engaged her in conversation.

"I'm sorry about your aunt, Emma."

"Not your fault," Emma shrugged. "We weren't close," she said, when Jenny looked taken aback, "Aunt Clara thought I was spoiled and arrogant. I'm really just independent. You get like that when your parents are too busy arguing over who's taking you to soccer practice to realize you've already left."

Jenny smiled as Emma smirked at her.

"Have they always fought like this?" Jenny asked, having had a taste of the nightmare the team was dealing with when she viewed a few tapes from interrogation.

Emma nodded.

"It's constant. Lydia and Elton are a terrible match," she said matter-of-factly.

"Are they violent about it?" Jenny asked. Emma raised an eyebrow.

"Am I being questioned?" Emma asked in return, flashing a smile. Jenny titled her head a little, conceding that. Emma shrugged. "Not really. They throw stuff, but it's more like you see little kids fight on the playground. I don't think they're capable of murder, exactly, but then I don't know them that well—I pretty much live with my best friend and her mom. You know, since Lydia and Elton like to use me as leverage,"

Jenny was surprised (and admittedly, impressed) with the maturity Emma seemed to handle her situation with. Any normal teenager would probably be some messed up drug addict with two kids, having grown up in an environment like that.

"Maybe your parents have a passive-aggressive love," Jenny said, lifting an eyebrow, half-heartedly trying some comfort. She knew Emma wasn't that stupid, thought.

"No, they _hate_ each other," Emma said, lightly, shaking her head. "I really don't know what they were thinking. They just don't _go_…but you and Agent Gibbs, now…" Emma trailed off, looking mischievous.

Jenny didn't say anything, but she slanted her eyes at her visitor, guarding her expression carefully.

"Director," Emma asked suddenly, turning focused eyes on Jenny, "why _do_ you fight with Agent Gibbs?"

"What?" Jenny asked, putting the fork down into the salad, and furrowing her eyebrows.

She hadn't been expecting that.

"You know, why? Mom and Daddy fight because they can't stand each other, Tom and Jerry fight because they're Predator and Prey…but you and Agent Gibbs don't _hate_ each other, and I don't think you hunt men, so what is it? A game?"

Jenny stared at Emma.

It had used to be a game. Back in Paris, Positano, even in the bullpen late at night. It was who could win the argument, not what the argument was

"Agent Gibbs doesn't know how to listen or cooperate," Jenny muttered carefully.

"'Ah, The course of true love never did run smooth,'" said Emma with a mischievous grin.

"Midsummer Night's Dream," Jenny said automatically, flashing a smile. Then she narrowed her eyes at Emma suspiciously, "'True Love?'" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It just seems like you and Agent Gibbs have chemistry," Emma said, smiling as she shrugged.

Jenny angrily commanded her cheeks not to flush; they ignored her.

"Like, you both don't like fighting, you'd rather be laughing, but you can't. Am I right? There was something between you? Yeeess?" she fished, looking intently at Jenny.

"Why would you think that?" Jenny questioned defensively.

Damn. She'd taken the bait.

"Oh, I don't know…maybe the way he looked at you when you walked away…and Agent DiNozzo told me he had a picture of you in his wallet, but don't tell anyone, because Tony was—"

"How did he look at me?" Jenny interrupted, mentally kicking herself again. But she couldn't help it. She really, really wanted to know what kind of look it was.

Emma hesitated, coming up with something quick in her head. Sure, Agent Gibbs had looked at the Director very angrily, but she knew they were perfect for each other! She was Emma Speare! She KNEW. So, she made something up.

"His eyes got really dark, and kinda sad, and he looked like he wanted to call you back,"

Jenny looked at the girl thoughtfully, and wondered what picture her senior agent was keeping in his wallet. Some of her pent up anger at the insufferable man melted away and a little regret crept back in.

Emma was looking at her knowingly.

"I can give him a message for you. You know, like, get him to meet you somewhere…"

Jenny swallowed and looked at Emma for a moment, before she shifted her eyes down and back up.

"This isn't television, Emma," she said, forcing an amused laugh, "everyone isn't sleeping with each other."

"I usually have a pretty good eye for this stuff," Emma said, standing up straighter and leaning back. She smiled at Jenny.

"Why are you so interested in Agent Gibbs and myself?" Jenny demanded curiously, standing up herself and folding her arms. Emma shrugged, her eyes sparkling.

"I'm kind of a romantic," she admitted, again with the mischievous look, "And, I kinda get the feeling you and him are the only two who don't get it. Oh…and I think he mumbled something about wanted you to kiss him," she added, turning and leaving with a backward wave, keeping Jenny's door open.

"No he didn't!" Jenny shouted, wondering if Cynthia thought she'd gone crazy yet. She sat back down and looked at the half-eaten salad in front of her.

Jenny narrowed her eyes, wondering why Emma had seemed to know a little _too_ much.

_Someone_ was up to _something_.

-----

"Yes, and then she fell over, and blood was coming out of her mouth, and she yelled 'Elton, you murdered me!' and that's when I knew, I KNEW, he didn't want to face her, knowing he'd cheated with her, and I just want to kill him—I mean, he murdered Clara, dear Clara-bear…"

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs clenched his fist on his knee under the table as he stared at Lydia Speare across the table.

She had now changed her story a grand total of five times.

"Is there any _reason_ your husband _had_ to murder Petty Officer Knightley?"

"Of course! He was sleeping with her! And poor dear, she was terrified, my sister! That no good philandering husband of mine no doubt forced her, and then killed her so she wouldn't tell me!"

"It's _your_ fingerprint on the bottle. _Your_ sweat."

"He's FRAMING ME?" Lydia shrieked, becoming hysterical. "That _bastard_! It's not good enough to kill my sister and make my life miserable! Why, I'll divorce him this time for sure, I swear to GOD—"

"We found potassium cyanide in with the spices in _your_ kitchen," Gibbs announced tightly, barely restraining himself.

He was seriously considering homicide.

"I cook with it!" Lydia Speare fired back defensively.

Gibbs left the room. He slammed the door behind him roughly and marched down the hall to the next interrogation room, banging the door open and causing Elton Speare to leap out of his chair.

"You get the bitch to confess yet?"

"What. Happened. Yesterday." Gibbs barked at Elton, throwing his notepad down.

"I told you we were fighting, and Clara started pointing at Lyd, and then she collapsed and died. I didn't do a damn thing! Don't tell me you _believe_ that harpy; she's psycho, _you_ believe _me_—"

"_YOUR_ hair was on the neck of the bottle."

"That shrew is _framing_ me now? _She_ killed her own sister? Agent Gibbs, you gotta help me, you know women—"

"WHY ARE YOU TWO MARRIED?" Gibbs bellowed, shutting Elton up instantly and giving him the deadliest glare he'd ever given anyone.

"The sex is _fantastic_," Elton answered after a moment.

Gibbs slammed both hands down on the table and glared at the man in front of him. He didn't think he'd ever met two more ridiculous people in his entire career—and he was actually placing them above _Diane_ on the crazy scale. And Diane was a fifteen out of ten.

"Who killed Clara Knightley?"

"SHE DID! She's FRAMING ME!"

Gibbs growled and stomped out of the room, slamming the door as he had Lydia's behind him.

HE stormed down the hall, his hand itching to smack DiNozzo silly simply because it would make him feel better. He didn't get far before a whirling mass of black and red slammed into him and squeezed the air completely from his lungs.

"Abs, air," he grunted, patting her back.

"Gibbs, you're gonna love me!" she shrieked, waving a paper in front of him excitedly.

"Make me smile," he grumbled, not influenced at all by her bubbly personality.

"Ducky and I ran some more tests, and we concluded that the arsenic, though it was eroding Knightley's body slowly, was not the cause of death, the massive dose of Potassium Cyanide was! So I looked over the bottle again and found a teeny, tine—I mean, small, Gibbs—speck of blood inside the neck of the bottle—and on a swizzle stick, too! So I figured whoever stirred in the cyanide cut themselves while pulling out the stick, and ran the blood. And I got a result!"

She thrust the analysis sheet in front of him, and didn't give him a chance before she went on.

"BUT! The fingerprints on the swizzle stick aren't from the same person as the blood, so I'm thinking since we can't find traces of arsenic, the killer switched to Potassium Cyanide to sped up the process, and made a mistake while they were framing the other! The blood is—"

Gibbs' eyes fell to the bold name on the analysis.

Lydia Speare.

He groaned.

"Blood's Lydia's," he said, scanning over the paper. He squinted, but Abby finished for him:

"The fingerprints are Elton's!" she yelped excitedly.

Gibbs crumpled the paper up and chucked it at the back wall in irritation, not at all cheered by the news. All they knew now was Elton had apparently stirred in the Potassium Cyanide. But there was too much contradicting evidence, too much reasonable doubt, to convict.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs despised _reasonable doubt._

"We need a confession," he growled.

He glanced back at the two doors that lead to interrogation and his mood immediately darkened.

This was an open shut case. It was practically closed now, if they could get a confession. This, he was acutely aware of. He was also aware that if he went back into either room and faced either Speare again, someone was going to die.

Grumbling mentally, he resolved not to speak to one of the idiots again unless he was throwing them against a wall and cuffing their sorry asses. This meant he might need to ask just what their daughter knew about controlling them that he did not.

"Abby," he started, turning to her, "get me—"

But he was interrupted by the appearance of DiNozzo and Emma, with Ziva lurking suspiciously behind them.

"You," he said, pointing at the teenager menacingly. He gestured to the doors, "Fix it," he ordered, expecting her to know what she was talking about.

"The director was wrong," Emma said, "you _did_ decide you needed me."

Gibbs looked at her suspiciously.

"DiNozzo," he barked.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Have we been having a nice little chat with the Director while I was gone?" he asked, stepping closer to the younger man. Tony backed up, gulping.

"Er, no, I—what? I can't…women _gossip_—ZIVA DID IT!" He stammered, grabbing Ziva and shoving Ziva in front of him.

"I did nothing!" Ziva snapped, stepping back.

"Just what did the _Director_ say?" Gibbs growled, rounding on Emma. She didn't back away from him, but she did smile brightly at him and wave her hand.

"Oh, just that you were uncooperative," she said non-chalantly, "Hmm…and she may have mentioned something about your hair…"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. DiNozzo snickered behind him.

_Whack_.

"Ow, Boss!"

"You gonna prove yourself useful or what?" Gibbs asked, glaring at Emma.

"She's just a little girl, Gibbs!" Abby whined, sounding sorry for Emma.

Emma raised her eyebrows and pointed two fingers at the two interrogation rooms.

"Put them in the same room," she announced wickedly, drawing looks of horror from those around her.

"No way," Tony said, shaking his head, "Not a good idea,"

"Au contraire," Emma said, pointing more furiously, "They'll get so caught up in tearing each other apart, they'll try to one-up the other—kind of like you and the Director, Agent Gibbs— and the truth will come out. They're not _exactly_ geniuses,"

Gibbs stared at her, having stopped listening when she'd mentioned Jenny. He looked from her confident eyes to his team's.

"Do it," he ordered, turning to enter the observation room. Emma stopped him when his hand reached the doorknob.

"I just remembered," she said coolly, "Director Shepard said she _wanted_ you in her office,"

Gibbs blinked at the way the girl stressed 'wanted' and narrowed his eyes (for the thousandth time today).

_Something_ was going on behind his back.

He turned sharply and walked off; Tony leapt out of his way like a little girl, knocking Ziva into a wall.

"DiNozzo, you are going to die!" the Mossad agent hissed, advancing on him.

"Later!" Emma shouted, jumping between them. She looked at Abby, her eyes sparkling. The forensic scientist nodded and they crept forward, peeking around the corner to see Gibbs take the catwalk at a fast pace and barge into the Director's outer office.

"Now," Emma gave the go word, and she and Abby ran for the stairs, knowing they had to make it fast. When they reached the catwalk, Ziva bringing up the tail, looking suspicious, they barged into Cynthia's office and snatched one of the waiting chairs.

Tony and Abby took it and pushed it against Jenny's door, settling it under the handles. Emma placed her hands on her hips.

"Good work," she commended. Cynthia protested loudly, but Ziva stopped her from calling Jenny's intercom.

"You can't lock Gibbs in there with her!" Cynthia hissed, sounding worried.

"Trust me," Emma said, turning to the young assistant, "They need to be _alone_,"

* * *

_How will this tomfoolery turn out?_

_Alexa_


	6. Did He Throw A Chair At The Door?

_"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" -A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare: On fools in love._

**

* * *

**

"WHAT?"

Director Jennifer Shepard nearly leapt out of her skin as her office door crashed open and Agent Gibbs bellowed the word at her.

She recovered quickly and stood up, leaning on her desk with two palms planted firmly against it.

"What the _hell_ is the matter with you?" She demanded, glaring at him. Gibbs slammed the door shut and glared back.

Really, was it necessary for him to make such a scene every single day? Was it for her benefit, or everyone else's? The man was bound and determined to drive her insane.

"I'm in the middle of solving _your_ damn 'rush case', _Director_—"

"Agent Gibbs, _lower_ your voice," Jenny snapped over his snarling. "I'm aware that you're doing your best. What have I done this time?" she demanded, annoyed that he'd just interrupted her deep contemplation of what Emma had said, thus catching her off guard and gaining the upper hand in whatever they were fighting about now.

"You called me up here!"

"No, I didn't," Jenny replied, a little confused now. She could understand him getting pissed if she'd interrupted his work to chastise him; he'd always gotten moody when people made it difficult for him to solve a case.

Except she hadn't _interrupted_, she'd been sitting up here mulling over her love life. So she bristled at his accusation.

Gibbs was glaring at her suspiciously now, like a paranoid husband or something.

"_You_ wanted to see me," he repeated, indeed lowering his voice this time, leaving it an open-ended question, waiting for an explanation.

"_Noooo_," she drawled, stressing it, "Who told you that? Cynthia?"

Gibbs hesitated.

"…Emma," he said, apparently starting to believe that she hadn't demanded his presence.

Jenny groaned. She came around the side of her desk, shaking her head.

"That _girl_…go back to your case, Jethro, she's just playing games with us," she muttered, walking towards her door. HE jumped in her way, raising an eyebrow.

"What games?" he asked, catching her eye.

"Teenage girl games," Jenny replied cryptically, drawing a Gibbs stare. She was unfazed by the menace in his blue eyes, and tried to get past him. She sighed patronizingly and looked up at him. He was still waiting expectantly for her to elaborate. "She's bored, she's a female, she's convinced we need to be 'hooked up' and she said…nevermind. Leave."

Jenny ordered, pointing at the door over his shoulder. HE smirked slowly, and she mentally punched him in the face. It wasn't fair. She'd only ever been able to coerce a back massage out of him (and that hadn't taken much coercing) and he could raise an eyebrow and get her to spill her guts.

Damn gorgeous blue eyes.

Jenny pushed past him and put her hand on the door handle, but Gibbs put his over hers and stopped her from turning it.

"She said _what_, Jen?" he asked, employing her nickname.

"I should chop you up in little pieces and sell you as dog food," Jenny mumbled.

"It must have been something interesting, if it's got you all hot and bothered," Gibbs prompted.

Jenny let go of the handle and whirled around, poking him in the chest.

"I am not 'hot and bothered' by _you_, Agent Gibbs, I am frustrated and annoyed by you and I want you to go solve the case so SecNav and I can be happy,"

Gibbs grabbed her hand and held her poking finger away from him.

"We need to be 'hooked up'? Where'd she get that idea?" he asked, relentlessly refusing to give it up. Jenny groaned and jerked her hand away.

"She claims to be some sort of matchmaking pro," she snapped at him, "and why don't you ask your _team_,"

"She said you told her you _wanted_ me in your office _now_," Gibbs said casually, suggestion evident in his voice.

Apparently, it only took a little sexual innuendo to drive all thought of argument (and the case) from his mind. This, in turn, made it extremely hard for Jenny to not think about kissing him senseless just to shut him up.

"Oh? _Really_? Well, she told me you mumbled to yourself that you wanted me to kiss you, and you looked at me as I walked away with sad eyes!"

Jenny smiled triumphantly at the defensive look he got.

"_What_? 'sad eyes'? Yeah, right, Jen—you believe that?"

'Why are you being so defensive?"

"This is stupid. We've got a case to solve."

"Yes, walk away Jethro, you always do,"

"YOU walked away, Director," Gibbs fired back, striding over to the door he jerked the handle, all set to classically storm away, and received a shock when the door merely banged back into place and didn't budge. He jiggled the handle.

Nothing.

HE was not only annoyed that his angry exit had been foiled, but also that he appeared to be locked in Jenny's office.

"Let me out," he snapped, turning to Jenny.

She was looking at the handle quizzically, and came to stand next to him, jiggling it herself.

"I can't," she said snappishly.

"What the hell is going on around here?" growled Gibbs, slamming his fist against the door.

"Someone locked us in," Jenny mumbled, looking at the door with suspicious realization.

She looked back at Gibbs, his eyes getting the same look. They looked back at the handle and at each other.

"Emma," they said in unison.

Jenny sighed in frustration, glaring at the door handle. Well, she just wasn't giving up, was she?

"She didn't pull this off alone," Gibbs said, stepping back a little, glaring daggers through the metal door. "DiNozzo," he muttered.

"CYNTHIA!" Jenny bellowed, causing Gibbs to jump a little, and glare at her.

He hated it when she shrieked like that. He'd only been on the receiving end of it once or twice. He didn't generally go around trying to incite _that_ kind of anger in her. "LET US OUT THIS INSTANT!"

No answer.

"TRAITOR!" Jenny bellowed again, kicking her heel against the door.

"They're getting a real _kick_ out of this," Gibbs quipped, glancing at her broken heel.

"Not funny, Jethro," she responded sarcastically.

-------

"Can you hear anything?"

"No, dammit, nothing's happening!"

"Maybe they're whispering,"

"Maybe it is because the door is metal,"

Cynthia Summer stared helplessly at the four people in front of her, all crammed around the chair that was blocking the director in, ears pressed against the door—well, except Tony, who's ear was crammed against the crack between the floor and the door.

She'd been convinced that, as scared as she was of both Jenny (when she was angry) and Agent Gibbs (all the time) the agents and Emma were right in their explanation that a happy Gibbs was a happy NCIS—that, and Cynthia personally felt Jenny would be better off if she stopped finding ways to make Agent Gibbs come see her just so she could look at him.

Because Cynthia Summer wasn't stupid, and she knew a connection when she saw it. And those two definitely had a connection.

"Let's turn on the intercom!" Abby cried suddenly, turning to Cynthia. Cynthia looked a little worried.

"I don't know…if she's at her desk the light will alert her—"

She was interrupted by the Director's loud shout from behind the door.

"CYNTHIA! LET US OUT THIS INSTANT!"

Tony and Emma burst into laughter, attempting to keep quiet. Cynthia blanch, and Ziva leap backward, apparently choosing that moment to wash her hands of the matter.

"TRAITOR!"

"I'm dead. I'm fired, I'm dead," Cynthia muttered, rubbing her head.

"Intercom! Now!" Abby ordered, scrambling to the assistant's desk. Swallowing hard, Cynthia pressed the button that connected her speaker to Jenny's. Tony, Emma, Abby, and Ziva (though she pretended to be ignoring them) listened with bated breath.

The director's voice came through first.

"Go away!"

"I can't go away. Unless you want to draw a line across the office."

"And what the hell would that do, Jethro?"

"You could stay on your side and I could stay on mine."

"Go away." Jenny repeated.

The team snickered.

"They sound like your parents," Tony remarked quietly. Emma shook her head.

"God, _no_. They're having fun," she informed him.

"If I have to spend the rest of this day in here with you, I'm going to drink all of that alcohol so I won't feel anything when I jump out the window,"

"Jenny's really morbid," Abby remarked, her eyebrows shooting into her hair.

"Why are you looking at me like that!?"

"Remembering the last time you got really drunk, Jen,"

"Don't you DARE—"

Gibbs laughed sounded around the room.

"Get your mind out of the bedroom!"

Tony laughed madly and hi-fived Emma. Ziva had inched closer now, with wide eyes, looking at the machine.

"This was a brilliant idea, Emma. BRILLIANT." Abby commended, giving her a wink.

"I told you, I'm good," Emma said, smirking as a shriek came through the headset, followed by a grunt and a thud.

"What just happened?" Tony asked.

"THAT DID NOT HELP JETHRO!" Jenny screeched.

"You can take the chair out of DiNozzo's paycheck," was the dry response.

"Did he throw a chair at the door?!" Cynthia asked in horror.

"I would not be surprised," Ziva said drily.

-------

Jenny stared open mouthed at the chair Gibbs had somehow managed to slam against her door in a futile attempt to break them out. The audacity of the man was really starting to drive her crazy.

"Got any better ideas?" he asked petulantly, folding his arms and glaring at her. She looked down at her broken heel.

"Shoot it open," she said suddenly, her eyes falling to his SIG.

"Shoot metal? _Seriously_, Jen?" Gibbs responded, raising his eyebrow.

"If I hit it just right," she lunged forward and went for his gun, but he grabbed her arm and trapped her. She struggled and wrapped her hand around it, trying to jerk it out of its holster.

"Give me your gun, Jethro," she demanded.

"Hell, no," he responded. She looked up to him, swallowing when she found his face in closer proximity than she'd anticipated.

"Do you want out of here or now?" she growled.

"Maybe," he responded, lowering his voice. Jenny tried to lean back, but he was holding her arm too tightly. She wriggled, and he smirked.

"I don't have time for this, Jethro," she hissed, really afraid of what was running through his mind.

"Why do you think they locked us in here?" he asked.

"They have a death wish," Jenny responded automatically.

"Wrooong," he drawled, shaking his head.

"Oh, so you think they locked us in here to get us together? Ha," she snorted and raised her eyebrows, "like that would work. Let me go," she demanded.

He didn't.

"They're as sick of our fighting as we are," he said. But Jenny wasn't listening.

Well, she heard what he said, but she was too busy positioning her elbow at his ribs to respond. She hit him hard, and pulled his SIG out of its holster. He fell back against the door right as she aimed at the lock—and right as the door swung open and Gibbs fell back into the outer office, his leg hitting hers and taking her down with him.

If the gun hadn't been on safety, her surprised tightened grip on the trigger would have put a bullet through Tony DiNozzo's gleeful forehead.

_Whack. Whack._

"Jeez, Boss, watch it!"

_Whack_.

"SORRY!"

Gibbs was up and hat hit Ziva once and DiNozzo twice before Jenny had even had time to recover from banging her knee against the curiously positioned chair outside the door.

"BACK TO WORK. NOW! I'll deal with you LATER!" he roared, Tony, Ziva, and Abby cowering in front of him. Jenny shoved the magazine back into Gibbs's SIG—it had fallen out when it had slammed against the floor—and glared up at the three miscreants.

They all had fake frightened looks on their faces. Their eyes were all smiles. They were _proud_ of themselves

Emma Speare stood behind the desk with Cynthia, clearly holding back an ear-to-ear grin.

Cynthia looked appropriately ashamed and terrified.

Gibbs turned to Jenny and extended his hand, and she took it without thinking, allowing him to help her up. She was aware that she looked ridiculous with one heel broken and the other intact, but she mustered a menacing glare all the same.

"Cynthia, we are going to have a _talk_ about employee loyalty," she reprimanded, 'What do you have to say for yourselves?" she asked, turning to Emma this time.

Emma shrugged, her smile finally breaking through.

"It seemed like a good idea," she defended, "don't you think? I mean…surely now you realize I'm right? You guys have a _clue_ now?"

Gibbs glared.

"This is a federal investigation! NOT some idiotic dating show. I have a case to solve!"

"Well, you could solve it better if you weren't in such a bad mood. Anger distracts," Emma fired back.

Jenny raised her eyebrows, and turned to see how Gibbs handled it.

"Oh, come on. You're not made. You'd much rather be locked in a room together than questioning my ridiculous parents."

Gibbs grumbled something and looked at Jenny. She lifted an eyebrow at him. He turned back to Emma.

"Come with me. Now," he ordered, storming out of the office and shoving Cynthia's door against the wall for effect. Emma blanched a little and followed him, shooting Cynthia an apologetic look and a sly one at Jenny.

Jenny hesitated a moment, and then pointed a threatening finger at her assistant before she quickly followed Gibbs and Emma on uneven heels.

* * *

_The end approaches_

_Alexa_


	7. YOU KILLED HER FIRST!

_"Jack shall have Jill, Naught shall go ill, the man shall have his mare again and all shall be well." -A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakesperea: On reuniting the lovers._

**

* * *

**Officer Ziva David did not want to be the one to throw Lydia and Elton Speare in a room together. Agent Tony DiNozzo did not want to be the one to push Lydia and Elton Speare in a room together.

So they compromised: They threatened McGee until he was too scared to protest and made him do it. The Probie pulled Elton Speare out of his interrogation room and explained they were letting him go in a stammering voice—and then quickly ushered him into his wife's interrogation room and locked the door.

Agent Timothy McGee leaned against the door and sighed in relief. His part was done.

In the observation room, Emma Speare stood in between Jenny and Gibbs with her arms crossed, watching her parents' reactions with a lifted eyebrow and a half-smirk. Jenny and Gibbs were glaring into the room, refusing to speak to each other. Ziva and Tony were confined to the back of the room, too scared to get any closer to their bosses than necessary.

The chaos began.

"YOU KILLED CLARA! MY BABY SISTER!"

"_YOU_ KILLED HER, YOU PSYCHOTIC HARPY!"

Lydia and Elton took opposite sides of the interrogation table, glaring at each other, hateful and mean.

"The agents told me, Elton, don't try to wriggle out of this! You put my sweat and blood on the gin bottle—as if I would kill innocent Clara, when you're the one who didn't want me finding out you were screwing around—"

"No, NO, YOU are the one who planted my hair on that bottle, and my sweat! I wasn't screwing around on you, I've always been faithful! You're the loose little harlot, running around behind my back at Quanitco—"

"I would never!"

The shouting escalated.

"What good is this doing?" Gibbs growled, looking at Emma out of the corner of his eye.

"It's showing you how different you are from them, see: they hate each other, while you and Jenny are really just—"

"What good is this doing the case," Gibbs interrupted dangerously.

"Oh, that. Just wait for it," Emma said, turning back to her parents and smirking. Lydia had taken refuge behind the chair Gibbs usually sat in and was crouching down.

"I want a divorce!"

"Sound familiar, Gibbs?" Jenny cracked sarcastically.

"You've been saying that for years, you indecisive bitch?"

"Nope, but did that ring any bells, Jen?" Gibbs retorted.

"Are you calling me a bitch, Jethro?" Jenny snarled, turning towards him.

"You're putting words in my mouth," he responded innocently.

Emma intercepted quickly.

"Now we're getting somewhere!" They looked at her like she was crazy. "You've just admitted there's a reason you're not together! I knew I could make you see if I just trapped you alone together—"

"Psssst! Little girl! _SHSHSHSH_!" Tony hissed frantically.

"DAMMIT, LYDIA!" the chair Lydia Speare had just fired at her husband slammed against the interrogation Plexiglas, and Emma jumped back, afraid it would break.

"YOU'RE FINGER PRINTS WERE ALL OVER THE BOTTLE! I KNOW IT WAS YOU!" Lydia shrieked.

"Oh, come on, Lyd, I'm TEN TIMES SMARTER THAN THAT! I had the GOOD SENSE TO WEAR GLOVES WHEN I POISONED THE GIN!"

Tony, Ziva, and Jenny gasped. Emma's jaw fell open.

"Did he just—"

"HUSH." Gibbs yelled, listening intently.

Lydia flew at her husband with flying hands.

"You don't think I can be clever, you _asshole_? I'll SHOW YOU! It really got you scared when they found YOUR HAIR and YOUR FINGERPRINTS on the swizzle stick! BET you're wondering how I pulled THAT OFF!"

Well, this was just getting more and more interesting.

Emma had been right. The two suspects were standing in interrogation, so caught up in fighting that they didn't realize they'd both admitted to murder. Loudly. And on tape.

"CLEVER? YOU KILLED YOUR OWN SISTER!"

"YOU KILLED HER FIRST!"

The table in interrogation flipped over as Lydia knocked Elton to the ground and they scrambled, throwing misaimed punches and putting on a ridiculous show of fighting.

Gibbs unhooked the cuffs from his belt and left the room; they watched him barge into interrogation and drag Lydia off Elton, cuffing her, while Ziva followed quickly with Elton, shouting their rights to them. Tony, Jenny and Emma rushed into the hall as the two agents dragged the killers out of interrogation, both struggling.

"MOM. DAD." Shouted Emma, crossing her arms and glaring at them angrily. Both of them stopped and looked at her.

"Emma, darling, what are you doing here?" Lydia asked, her voice softening.

"Your mother's a killer, baby, didn't I always tell her she was crazy?"

"SHUT UP, ELTON!"

"You two are in _so_ much trouble," snapped Emma, glaring at them both.

"Look what you did, Lyd, you upset her!"

"Me? ME!" the fighting drained out as Gibbs dragged Lydia away, followed by Ziva and Elton.

Tony let out a long whistle as they disappeared; Jenny and Emma turned to him, Emma looking thoughtful and frustrated.

"Well that just _sucks_," she muttered, stomping her foot. Tony gave her an odd look. Like…a 'how come you're not all upset and surprised like a normal kid' look.

Jenny was already accustomed to Emma being not normal.

"You were right," Tony said to her, a peculiar look dawning on his face, "Gibbs needed you to close the case! A fifteen-year-old!"

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Do you just _not_ listen, Tony?" She asked, drawing a smirk from Jenny. "I know how to work people, really," she turned to Jenny, her young eyes pleading.

"You really should listen to me, you know. I have a _good_ track record. Ask my Aunt Helena and her husband." She said confidently, nodding her head.

Jenny sighed and shook her head, glancing off after Gibbs and Ziva.

She and Gibbs did do a good job of making the entire agency thing they hated each other. But that's just because it wouldn't be good at all for everyone to know they really had it bad for each other. Or, at least, she had it bad for him. She didn't _know_ if he still had it bad for her.

Except, he had tried to compromise her in the office. So maybe.

"You're in on this?" Jenny asked, looking at Tony. He seemed to think twice about lying.

"Yes, ma'am. A Happy Gibbs is a Happy DiNozzo!" he parroted.

"What exactly makes everyone think I make Gibbs happy?" Jenny asked exasperatedly.

Emma and Tony looked at each other.

"Come on, Jenny," Tony said softly.

She sighed in surrender.

* * *

_Only the epilogue left!_

_Alexa_


	8. Epilogue: A Happy Gibbs Is A Happy Jenny

_"If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended." -A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare: after Puck has fixed the lovers up._

**

* * *

**

To the contentment of all, Lydia and Elton Speare were safely ensconced in holding cells down the street, happily driving the guards insane.

Director Jennifer Shepard had just finished her briefing with SecNav, who was as incredulous as the rest of them at the tale she'd just related. They all had to wonder how many mirrors had been broken, exactly, to land them with a case in which two people had each tried to frame the other for a murder because they hated each other _that_ much.

It would be funny, if someone hadn't died as a result.

Jenny exited MTAC with a relieved smile and stood against the rail on the catwalk, looking down into the bullpen fondly. Abby was visiting the team in the squad room, perched on McGee's desk, swinging leather-booted legs. DiNozzo and Ziva were standing together, listening with amusement to something Emma was saying.

Gibbs, even, was relaxed a little, as he spoke on the phone, leaning back in his chair. Emma looked up suddenly and met Jenny's eyes, flashing a smile. She elbowed Tony and he looked up as well, raising his eyebrows.

Jenny rolled her eyebrows, but turned all the same and made her way slowly down the stairs, the carpet fluffy between her toes as she entered the bullpen, a case file tucked under her arm.

The team quieted as she walked past and came to stand in front of Gibbs' desk. She waited patiently as he looked up at her, lifted an eyebrow, and finished his phone conversation.

He looked at her, leaned up, and glanced down at her feet.

"You get shorter, Director Shepard?" he asked.

"My heels were irreparably damaged during the escape attempt," she responded, throwing a look over her shoulder at the team, who immediately tried to look very occupied. She turned back to her former lover.

"You thought up a punishment for the children yet?"

"Marine Corp Hazing," Gibbs answered promptly, smirking. Tony made a hissing noise of fear behind them. Gibbs stood up as Jenny turned around; she handed him the file with the custody re-assignment papers in it for Emma. He gave her a nod.

He handed them to DiNozzo with a deadly glare, and Emma watched the transfer happily.

"I really get to live with my friend and her mom?" she asked.

Gibbs grunted, Jenny nodded.

"You were able to prove you spent primary time there anyway, and with my friends in high places…" Jenny trailed off, smiling.

"DiNozzo, take her home," Gibbs said, giving the teenager a look that was not quite as stern as it could have been. As usual, she raised an eyebrow and refused to quail before him.

It was getting dark outside; and as usual Team Gibbs was the only one left in the office.

"Come on, oh great one," Tony said, fishing keys out of his pocket and beckoning to Emma. He led her off towards the elevator, with Gibbs and Jenny following.

Abby slid off McGee's desk and crept towards Ziva's; McGee followed her, and they all crouched a little, peeking over the edge of the walls.

"You think this will work?" Abby asked secretively, nudging McGee.

"If Gibbs falls for little puppy dog eyes," McGee answered, unsure.

"Or if he falls for Jenny," Ziva piped up, earning an appreciative look from Abby.

DiNozzo pressed the button to call the elevator and leaned against it, giving Emma the smallest nod.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs. For putting up with Lydia and Elton," she rolled her dancing eyes and glanced back as the elevator dinged and the door slid open. DiNozzo stepped in, and Emma waited, sighing a little and widening her eyes a bit.

Back in the bullpen, Ziva, Abby, and McGee laughed silently.

"You know…considering I've just found out my parents are killers…it would be nice to know _I've_ done some good today," she sighed, turning big eyes on Gibbs and Jenny.

Jenny felt the traitorous blush tinge her cheeks.

DiNozzo was holding the elevator doors open, looking just as sly as his teenage counterpart.

Gibbs rolled his eyes under raised eyebrows and turned slightly to Jenny. They looks they gave each other were indecipherable to any but themselves.

"Kid's never going to give up," muttered Gibbs.

Jenny shook her head, allowing a small smile.

Emma's eyes sparkled mischievously, and she looked back and forth between them mischievously.

"It worked, didn't it?" she asked, and when neither answered, she nodded smugly. "I do have a reputation to uphold," she said, tossing her head and turning around. She stepped in the elevator.

Jenny turned to Gibbs and pulled him closer to her by the collar of his jacket; he placed a hand on the small of her back with a smirk.

"My work here is done," Emma said smugly to DiNozzo.

The elevators closed on Emma Speare, Matchmaker Extraordinaire, just as Gibbs pulled Jenny closer and pressed his lips against hers, drawing a wolf whistle from Tony and a loud squeal from Abby.

Jenny smiled against his lips

A Happy Gibbs was a Happy Jenny.

_Finis_

* * *

_And so THE END of my little fic!_

_A Few Notes: The names Elton, Emma, and Knightley are from Jane Austen's 'Emma'. 'Speare' refers to Shakespeare, adn the quick mention of a 'Helena' is an allusion to a happy lover in 'Midsummer Night's Dream'. Emma Speare's personality is mostly taken from Shakespeare's character, 'Puck'._

_Alexa_


End file.
